I’d never been to the Southwest when Antoinette drew my inner portrait– a recurring vision of an old chapel. Inside the golden arch of a doorway was St. Francis of Assisi.
My quest “Finding the New” was in direct line with the opportunity to attend the AMTA Convention in Albuquerque, NM. I rented a car on the last day of my visit and headed north, into the mountains of Santa Fe. I turned onto a road called Cerrillos (Spanish for little hills or mountains). This path took me to museums of Native American culture and history. I felt urgency as I quickly toured the site and continued on.
A man told me to take the Turquoise Trail, a dirt road leading back through the mountains. I saw another sign…Cerrillos. This road took me in to a small village, an old mining town nestled in the mountains. There it was– the southwestern chapel from my portrait. Outside was a tree that had been carved into a figure of the risen Christ. I entered the church and sat in a pew. In a few moments, Father Donnan, of the Franciscan order, came to say hello and directed me to a prayer room at the back of the altar.
There He was. Master Jesus on the cross– a ceiling to floor sculpture of the crucified Christ. I knelt before him. I wept. I grieved.
I stood and raised both hands to heaven. The lightening bolt of God radiated through me. My legs trembled into the earth. I asked for a message and heard, “Become your future self.” Rebirth.